


Soccer Catastrophies

by EmilyB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mentions of Blood, Protective!Peter, Reader-Insert, Swearing, general cuteness, injuries, peter x reader - Freeform, soccer stuff, tom holland is too cute for his own good, tony x reader platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyB/pseuds/EmilyB
Summary: Reader gets injured during her soccer game, Peter comes to the rescue and then they have a little fight because he doesn't like seeing her hurt





	Soccer Catastrophies

**Author's Note:**

> These are all drabbles to get me through my writer's block. I'm not sure it's perfect but I like it. Also I have broken my nose once playing football (soccer) and I can honestly say this is how it feels times two.

You just barely catch the smirk on your rival’s face before she kicks the ball and it comes flying straight at your face. You don’t have enough time to react before the black and white ball slams into you. The force of the ball knocks your head back before a sickening _pop_ is heard and pain explodes through your face.

 

You groan and double over, a hand cupping your face, a warm, red, sticky substance running down and pooling in your hand, surely dripping down and staining your shirt. It doesn’t take you long to realize that the source of the pain is your nose...your broken nose.

 

Spots swim in your vision as you try to regain your posture on shaky legs. “Why you son of a…” you trail off reminding yourself that there were spectators and that you were still on school grounds, using your hands to try and stop the blood, “You did that on purpose!”

 

“Why I don’t know what you’re talking about, it was a complete accident,” she smiles innocently.

 

You growl dangerously before the ear piercing screech of the referee meets your ears and the woman walks onto the field.

 

“15 you’ve been red carded, please exit the field,”

 

She glares at the referee an offended look on her face, “What?! It’s not my fault her fat face was in the way,” she yells making various hand gestures. Your hands drop from your face, clenching in to fists, blood dripping onto the fresh green grass.

 

“Why I oughta-” you start moving towards her but the referee cuts you off.

 

“Get. Off. The Field,”

 

She huffs and turns away, mumbling her final words loudly enough for you to hear, “Whatever, it was totally worth it,”

 

“That is it!” you cry out, ignoring the pain it causes, lunging at her, her ponytail is at the tips of your fingers when your attempts are cut short by two strong arms around your waist, effectively lifting you off the ground so you look like you’re just flailing your arms and legs in the air wildly.

 

“Whoa, hold on there feisty pants!”

 

“Let me go, Peter! This chick needs a taste of her own medicine!” you yell struggling against the familiar hold, almost elbowing him in the ribs.

 

Having been witness to the events, it took Peter a matter of seconds to jump the fence to get onto the field and make his way to you. He makes it just in time to grab you mid lunge, just as you were about to get her, “Nope, you’ve got way more important things to worry about.” he replies, when you don’t stop wiggling, he tries a new tactic by hooking an arm behind your knees and hoisting you up, bridal style.

 

You let out a soft shriek, wrapping your arms around his neck in panic having not expected him to do that. He turns and begins to carry you off the field in the direction of the locker rooms, “You do realize that it’s my nose and not my legs that are broken right?”

 

He glances down at you before looking forward again, “If I put you down you’re only going to go running after that  girl again,”

 

You can’t help but smirk, “You know me so well,” you chuckle before a sharp burst of pain goes to your nose for the first time since the ball hit you, “Ow, laughing makes my nose hurt,” you pout, unhooking one arms from around his neck to grasp at your nose in an attempt to ease the pain.

 

“That’s kind of what happens when you break your nose, Y/N,” he chuckles, entering the locker rooms and setting you down on the bench, before getting up and making his way to your coach’s office to retrieve the first aid kit. You wince as you look up and see the bloody fingerprints on the back of his white t-shirt.  


Making his way back to you, he sets the open medical kit down and takes a piece of gauze, beginning to wipe up some of the blood on your face.

 

“Ah! Don’t touch it!” you yell, swatting his hand away when he gets a little too close to your nose.

 

“We’re going to have to set it back, Y/N,” he says as if it’s not obvious. You immediately lean back, shielding your nose with your hand.

 

“But that will hurt!”

 

“You can’t just let it heal like that!”

 

“Will you break up with me if I have a funky nose?” you ask leaning forward, hand still covering your nose.

 

“Yes,” he says flatly, giving you a ‘really?’ look. You know he’s kidding, only trying to get his point across, but you sigh and lower your hand anyway.

 

“Okay, just make it quick,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the edge of the bench tightly.

 

You feel one of his hands cup the back of your head gently, fingers of the other once again brushing the area around your nose.

 

“Wait!” you yell in panic, gripping his wrist,  once again wincing as pain shot through your face, “Have  you ever done this before?” you ask.

 

He gives you a hesitant look, which you really don’t like, “One of Mr. Stark’s suits malfunctioned and hit him in that face once, it broke his nose and there was no one else around so he had me fix it,”

 

“But uncle Tony’s nose has a kink in it, you can tell it was broken,” you whine, recalling the time you came home to see your uncle’s nose all gauzed up and swollen. You try to move his hand away, but he wouldn’t budge.

 

“It was my first time doing anything like that, of course it wouldn’t be perfect,” he shrugs, you give him a hesitant look, “I promise I won’t screw up your nose,” he sighs.

 

“Maybe we should just wait for the nurse to- Holy fucking hell! Why would you do that?!” you yell, shoving his arm away, replacing his hand with your own as the sharp pain slowly reduced to a dull ache.

 

“It worked didn’t it?”

 

It’s then that the doors to the locker room bursts open, in comes your coach rambling about how the girl wasn’t punished enough, followed by the nurse who calmly examines your nose as your coach continues rambling. You explain to her that Peter already set it back, she scolds him for conducting such a procedure without a medical license but commends him on doing a good job. You breathe a sigh of relief, that meant you wouldn’t have a crooked nose. SHe gives you some more gauze and an icepack for the swelling

 

When you’re done with the inspection your coach explains that you were done for the rest of the game and can head home, which you thought was ridiculous because you were only ten minutes into the game, you hadn’t even broken a sweat. Coach wasn’t all too happy having lost her best striker, but in all honesty you really wanted a nap so you agreed. Peter offers to take you home, both your bags already hanging on his shoulder and in his hand. On the way you can’t help but think of what your uncle’s reaction would be. You just hope he didn’t try to sue the girl, it wasn’t like he needed any more money, he was Tony Stark for fuck’s sake.

 

You enter the compound, Peter trailing behind you, you’re in the common area when you meet your uncle.

 

“Gah!” he exclaims, some on the M&Ms in his bowl spilling onto the floor, “Who broke your face?!” he asks looking from you to Peter.

 

“Some girl from the other team, it’s fine Peter fixed it and the nurse said it was okay and I just need a nap. Seriously dude, you just wasted good M&Ms,” you say using your ice pack to gesture to the floor.

 

“Just don’t let blood get on your carpet it was just cleaned,” he mumbles making his way to the screening room.

 

You roll your eyes and make your way up to your room, Peter follows suit, taking a seat on your desk chair as you strip off your soccer uniform, tossing it in the hamper, leaving you in just your underwear. You pull on a pair of shorts and look at Peter who seems more involved in his own thoughts rather than the fact the you were half naked in front of him.

 

“Hey gimme your shirt, there’s blood on it,” you say, but he just continues to stare at a spot on the wall. “Peter,” you call poking his shoulder.

 

“Hm? What’s up?” he asks looking up at you.

 

“I said gimme you shirt, there’s blood on it,” you say furrowing your brows at him.

 

“Oh...yeah,” he mumbles pulling off his shirt and handing it to you.

 

“Okay what’s up?” you ask, tossing the shirt into the hamper and turning back to him.

 

‘I’m not sure I want you to keep playing on the team,” he says suddenly, making you raise an eyebrow.

 

“And since when do you dictate whether or not I play soccer?” you scoff.

 

“I’m serious Y/N. You broke your nose today, what about next time? Heck I’m surprised you didn’t end up with a concussion!” he frowns.

 

“Well I didn’t so why does it matter?” you ask, crossing your arms defensively.

 

“Please Y/N, I don’t like it when you get hurt,” he says rolling the chair closer to you.

 

You glare slightly, noting the hypocrisy of his words, “You mean, like how I don’t like it when you come back from your heroic escapades all scuffed up and injured?”

 

Peter is quiet for a moment, not expecting the comeback, “But that’s different-”

 

“No, it’s not.  I hate it when you get hurt out there, but I tolerate it, because I know you can handle yourself and I know that it’s something that you have to do.  I love playing soccer.  Please don’t ask me to choose between you and the team,”

 

You both stare at each other for a long moment, daring the other to back down.  Peter is the first to look away with a deep sigh.  He reaches a hand out to pull you into his lap. “Okay,” he concedes. “Just be a little more careful.  Stay away from people that are out to get you,”

 

You smile gratefully, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and straddling his lap, “Same goes for you,”  You tilt your head slightly and lean down to share a kiss with your boyfriend.

 

His head shifts a little, causing his nose to brush against yours.  You pull back with a wince as another sharp bolt of pain pierces your nose.

 

You growl in annoyance. “Seriously?!” you prod at the tender skin around your sensitive nose.  “If I ever see that bitch walking down the street, I’m punching her in the face. I can’t even kiss my boyfriend properly because of her!”

 

Peter laughs, clearly amused by your violent threats. He gives you a peck on the lips, standing up with you, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he moves towards the bed.

  
“Let’s take a nap,” he mumbles, dropping on his back with you on top of him, you laugh softly, sliding off him and resting your head on his chest intertwining your legs, as he wraps an arm around you, both of you slowly drifting off to sleep.


End file.
